


The Lichen Job

by Professor Scaly (Thelifeofafandom)



Category: Leverage
Genre: (the transphobia is the bad guy dw), Burlesque, Case Fic, Cruise Ships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Guns, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Outing, Slow Burn, Stripping, TERFs, Trans Eliot Spencer, Trans Sophie Devereaux, Transphobia, Unresolved Sexual Tension, also only gets mentioned in 2 chapters, and will be doing big boy trigger/content warnings when we get there, minor internalized transphobia, no archive warnings because it's not explicit, phalloplastied penis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29989023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelifeofafandom/pseuds/Professor%20Scaly
Summary: Eliot Spencer is trans. Always has been, always will be. He's also in love with his two best friends, but doesn't want to admit it. So after an accidental night of passion with Hardison, he hopes they'll never have to bring it up again. When someone asks the Leverage Crew to take down a TERF with a movie deal for her famous book, the crew finds themselves on a romantic singles cruise. Not only is Eliot forced to confront the door to his closet and why he has it shut anyway, he's also roped into being a burlesque cowboy, kissing Parker in front of dozens of people, and opening his heart up to the people he loves.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer, Sophie Devereaux/Nathan Ford (Background)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. The Night of the Grave Danger Job

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I've never written anything this long or serious or case ficy before :0. So we'll see how that goes... If you want the authentic experience, listen to my OT3 playlist that I made and listened to on loop while writing this. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6cRorRzeMRIgK0zyltmdEG?si=e2mG87Z4S5Gs6uMRu4HrWw

Hardison sat with his head in his hands and his elbows on the table. He had had a big fucking day. To say the least — the weight of the day sat heavy on his chest. Despite being safe in McRory’s bar, he could still taste the stale air and smell the dirt from being buried alive. Jesus, what a thing to say. He didn’t ask for this fucking job. Well, he did. He knew he could leave whenever he wanted, but he loved this job too much, loved being with this crew too much. He just wished that the downsides didn’t include being buried in a nautical-themed coffin by a cartel. Parker had been trying to console him, they cried, and he had braved all his emotional repression to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek. It wasn’t enough to erase the horrors of the day, but it had filled his heart with some kind of needed lightness. Though he had tried to slip out of the bar, Sophie and Nate had corralled him back inside. Nate hadn’t noticed the tears glazed over his and Parker’s eyes, but Sophie at least gave them both quick sympathetic glances. Eliot wasn’t there, and Hardison noticed. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. After Parker had dug Hardison up it was Eliot who had wrapped him in the big bear hug, burying his head in the crook of his neck, an unusual gesture from him, and surprisingly relieving to Hardison. He had dug his fingers into the other man’s shoulders and thought he could’ve stayed there forever, latched into the flannel and warmth of his body. He had really only moved to affirm his life to Parker as well, bear hugging her. The ride home was when Eliot had started acting weird, alternating between pressing his side against Hardison’s and squishing himself against the window like Hardison had leprosy. He had more important things to worry about than Eliot’s hold ups with physical touch and toxic masculinity, though, such as trying to listen to Sophie droning on about something that was definitely directed at him. 

“—I’m just so glad that you’re alright, we were terrified. You’re doing so well.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Yes, and Nate and I really think that you shouldn’t push this down you should talk to someone about it, isn’t that right Nate?”

“Uh-huh.” This time Hardison and Nate both gave the same note of assent. 

“You know if you need someone to talk to, there was a time in Dubai where—“

“Sophie.” Hardison put his hands down on the table a little louder than he meant to. “I love you both. But I think I need to be alone tonight. I just need to clear my head.” Sophie looked slightly offended but mostly understanding. Nate looked drunk. Parker looked like she wasn’t paying attention. 

“Ok, if you’re sure. We’ll see you tomorrow, Hardison.”

“Thanks Sophie. Good-night everyone.” Hardison walked out of the bar, relishing the cold New England air on his overheating skin. It had felt like he was being buried underground again, with Sophie’s overbearing kindness and his inability to tell Parker how he really felt and the pressure of Nate’s alcoholism all pressing down on him at once. He needed to get drunk and… and… he wasn’t sure what people did to get over something this traumatic. As a hacker, he was usually pretty far removed from any actual, physical danger, outside of the risk of getting arrested. He didn’t have time to decide on a plan of action, because upon opening his door he noticed something strange. The kitchen was being used. Because he lived directly above Nate in the same building, his duplex was laid out almost exactly the same, just that his bedroom was on the first floor so that he was able to convert his second floor into a laboratory/gamer room. The living room and the kitchen were open plan, and he could see someone rummaging around in his fridge. 

“Oh, uh, I thought you’d be down there longer.” Eliot’s head sheepishly appeared from the open refrigerator door. Hardison relaxed. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Eliot had the key to his apartment and, well, it’s not like he needed it to get in. “I’m makin’ uhh. Well you didn’t have much food in here and well, I went out and bought ingredients and—“ he felt he was talking too much and shook his head. He gestured to the pot and pan steaming on the stovetop and grunted. “I was gonna be outta here before you got back. Soup.” 

Hardison nodded his head slowly. “Soup.”

“Yeah, are you deaf? I’m makin’ you soup. Now sit your ass down on the couch.” 

“You know, Eliot, it’s ok. I kinda want to be alone tonight and just—” Eliot didn’t make eye contact with him and shoved some kind of fruity drink in his hand, umbrella and everything. 

“Look. I ain’t much for the touchy feely stuff. I don’t want you drinking soda and eating gummy bears for dinner. I made you that fruity shit you like and put a lot of tequila in it.” Eliot stared at the drink in question as if he physically couldn’t make eye contact with Hardison. “Please.” 

Hardison took a sip of the drink. It was mango and orange and pineapple and the tequila aftertaste of burnt cigarettes. “This shit is delicious, man.” He made his way to the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table, kicking some half created gizmos and gadgets out of the way. “So since you’re being all nice to me, I can pick what movie we watch?” Eliot’s heart thumped into his throat. He was planning on leaving once he had served Hardison a home cooked meal, but it looked like his friend had changed his mind about having company. He would do it. For him, of course. 

“C’mon dude, you’re going to pick some Star Whatever garbage.” Eliot knew full well the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek, but he’d never let Hardison know that.

“Absolutely correct, my man. And you will be getting my primo commentary the whole time.” Hardison grinned. He  _ had  _ wanted to be alone. But the drink was so strong, and the smell of whatever Eliot was making was so good, and he was getting so cozy underneath the soft blanket he kept on his couch, that he felt like the fears of today were melting away into the background noise of his life. Eliot groaned.

“I’m excited for your movie commentary,” Parker piped up, her elbows resting on the couch behind Hardison’s head. 

He yelped. “Jesus, woman, how the hell do you do that?” 

Parker swung her body onto the couch so her arm was draped around Hardison, and she pulled the blanket over herself as well. “I’m sneaky!” Hardison rolled his eyes. “I just didn’t want you to be alone tonight,” she half-whispered. “And now Eliot  _ and  _ I are here. Two for the price of one.” Two for the price of one. The phrase lingered like the taste of tequila in the back of his throat. It didn’t help when Parker rested her head on his shoulder so close to him he could smell the shampoo in her hair.

“A drink for the lady, and a refill for the gentleman.” Eliot placed a cup of what Hardison was drinking in front of Parker and poured more for Hardison. “Soup? Soup?” They both nodded, and Eliot balanced three bowls on his arms and placed them in front of his friends. His eyes flicked to the armchair by the couch, then to the open space on the other side of Hardison. He stood paralyzed for a beat longer than the length of time it would take for a sane person to pick where to sit, and finally decided to squeeze in by Hardison. 

“It’s the only seat with a table,” he grumbled. “Your fuckin’ house is so messy I could spill soup straight on the floor it wouldn’t change shit-”

“You are in my house, talking shit about my house?”

“-but you know what I’m a fuckin’ polite guest. Yeah I’m talking shit about your house-”

“You are literally a guest here, just because you made soup-”

“-your house is a sty. And I’ve been in literal pigsties. This is delicious chicken noodle-”

“Hardison, pick the movie and you two can argue while we watch it.” Parker patted Hardison’s thigh with her hand. The two men glared at each other, with no real malice behind it. Eliot pressed himself against the arm of the couch, trying not to let himself touch too much of Hardison. Especially after how he had hugged him today, not very macho of him. 

“So, Star Wars or Star Trek?” Hardison directed the question to Eliot. “Or dare I say Doctor Wh-” 

“Man, you know I can’t watch that campy shit.” 

“It’s all campy shit.”

“At least Star Wars has real fighting and action in it.”

“So you prefer Star Wars to Star Trek?”

Eliot groaned. “Hardison just pick a movie. I'm gonna be bored either way, you’ve made us watch these a million times.”

Hardison narrowed his eyes. “Everyone’s either into Star Wars or Star Trek. But I’ll let it go for now.” He put  _ Wrath of Khan  _ into the DVD player.

Eliot settled into the arm of the couch, drinking his own alcoholic concoction, getting warmed by his soup, and lulled into comfort by Hardison’s nonstop commentary. Eliot let himself relax, and even put his arm on the couch behind Hardison’s shoulders after Parker put her head in his lap. It felt nice to be able to stretch out with his friends. That was it. He was just glad of that opportunity to just hang out with his friends. What’s a little cuddling between bros?

Hardison was barely watching the movie. Yes, he was talking about it, but he’d seen it so many times it felt like it was instinct at this point. All he could think about was Parker’s head in his lap and how close Eliot’s arm was to his neck. When the credits rolled, he realized he needed to extricate himself before he did or said something stupid and made a move to get up. 

“Wait!” Eliot’s left arm shot to Hardison’s right shoulder, keeping him seated. “I think Parker’s asleep.” For a second, Eliot’s arms were almost wrapped around Hardison, and their lips were mere inches away. Eliot pulled his arms back sharply, folding them over his chest. No longer whispering, he said,“There’s a trick to getting up when Parker falls asleep. If you’re tryin’ to be quiet and sneak around, she’ll wake up in a second. Just scootch to the side and let her head fall down to the couch. C’mon.” Eliot stood up, and Hardison moved to where he was sitting. Parker’s head hit the couch with a “thunk,” but she just rolled over and snored lightly. “Told ya.” Eliot gave a lopsided grin.

“Hey, how do you know how Parker sleeps?”

“She comes over to my place Wednesday nights and we watch wrestling together.” Hardison looked at him with an unreadable expression and Eliot’s face burned. “What? Two friends can’t watch a little bit of AEW together? Can’t appreciate the sport together? The  _ art form _ ?” Eliot looked away and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “I mean, I’d never— I’ve never made a move on her. If that’s what you’re wondering. If it weren’t for you I would. Uhh. Look man I just mean she’s hot but she’s your girl even if you’re taking ten years to make a move.” Hardison grinned, but didn’t say anything. “I’m gonna go, I should get home.”

Eliot turned away to leave, but felt Hardison’s hand grab his elbow. “Wait. Stay here. Please.” All of Hardison’s humor and smiliness drained out of his face. “I don’t want to sleep alone.” He let the sentence hang in the air. “If they come for me again, you’re the best defense I could ask for. Please. Come on, be my guard dog for a night.”

Eliot steadied his breath and bobbed his head slowly a few times. “Ok.” They turned the lights off in the kitchen and the living room, leaving Parker dreaming peacefully on the couch. And suddenly he was standing in Hardison’s bedroom, the sound of the shower rushing in the bathroom next to him. He rummaged around in Hardison’s drawers, looking for something to wear to bed other than his jeans. He was acting as Hardison’s personal security tonight, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be comfortable. He picked out a pair of sweatpants. Damn, Hardison was tall, he’d have to roll up the pant legs. He grabbed one of Hardison’s pillows, and the top blanket and laid them out on the floor, before slipping on Hardison’s pants and folding his own in the corner. 

“Excuse me? What are you doing?” Hardison had come out of the shower, already in pajamas. He had brought the clothes into the bathroom, not wanting to feel so naked and exposed to Eliot. Not like they hadn’t seen each other half-naked before, but tonight it felt too intimate. 

“Dammit Hardison, you want me to be your bodyguard  _ and _ sleep in my damn jeans?”

“No, no, I’m talking about this.” Hardison picked his sheet and pillow up from the ground and tossed them onto the bed. “I can’t let you sleep on the floor, man.”

“Well what’s the other option?” Eliot frowned angrily at Hardison. “I’m not gonna let  _ you  _ sleep on the floor, not after the day you’ve had!” The two held eye contact then looked at the bed. 

“Well, I was thinking we could share,” Hardison said slowly. In reality, he hadn’t thought this far ahead. But there was no other option he could think of other than kicking Eliot out of his place. “Yeah, you know, cuddle up. Like bros.” 

“Like bros,” Eliot grumbled. “Yeah, whatever.” He lay down on the edge of the bed, as close as he could get to not falling off of it. Hardison turned the lights off and Eliot heard the rustling of the mattress and the sheets that told him he had settled down. Eliot waited until Hardison’s breath steadied before letting himself drift off to sleep too. 


	2. So... There Was Only One Bed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, this is the explicit sexual content. Don't worry, it's still slow burn, I didn't lie to you in the tags.

Eliot was awoken by a small shout and the mattress shifting. Not knowing what was happening he threw his arm over Hardison’s chest and grabbed his knife from under the pillow. 

“Oh, no, Eliot it’s ok— wait, when’d you get a knife in here?” 

“To protect you Hardison,” Eliot responded, the sleep rumbling like rocks in his voice. “That’s what you wanted isn’t it? I’m going back to sleep.” He started putting his head down. 

“You didn’t really answer my question.” Hardison paused. “Can we turn the lights on?” His voice was trembling. 

“Why?” Hardison didn’t respond and Eliot kicked himself. Of course being in the dark right now would freak him out. “I mean, yeah. Turn the lights on.” The lights clicked on and Eliot could see the haggard look in Hardison’s eyes. It was the kind of look he got himself after tough nights that ended tough days, that scream must have been Hardison having a nightmare. He shifted uncomfortably in bed next to Eliot. 

“You know, it’s ok to be havin’ nightmares.” 

Hardison turned so he was facing Eliot. “I know. It doesn’t make them easier to have.” 

Eliot let the silence fill the room. “What were you thinking about?”

“The usual. Dirt filling my mouth. Not being able to breathe. Parker being shot by the cartel.” He paused. “You being shot by the cartel.” 

“Hey you know I’d never die on ya.” Eliot awkwardly patted Hardison’s hand. 

“But you might, is the thing. Our job is so dangerous. What if one of us gets shot? What if one of dies?” He gripped Eliot’s hand in a vice. “You’re the only people— you’re— well. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Hardison looked into Eliot’s deep blue eyes. “You plural.” 

“Yeah, I got it.” Eliot grabbed Hardison’s hand back, trying to steady it from shaking. “You know, I’ve never been buried alive. Parker probably knows better than me, she does it for fun.”

“Freak,” Hardison muttered jokingly. 

“Yeah, right? Anyway, I’ve never been buried alive. But I was once locked in a woodshed for a few days. It was this tiny lil thing, barely had room to sit. My dad, uh. Used to lock me in closets. When I did something wrong. One day he found out I was making out with a girl from my high school — the head cheerleader, no big deal — and he started to throw me into the closet. I told him I wasn’t going in there, no way I was. Said I was claustrophobic. Told me fine, he wasn’t gonna make me do it.” Eliot paused, bile rising to his throat as he remembered that day. “Next day he told me he was gonna help get me over my claustrophobia. Cheerleader’s dad had this pitbull, huge thing. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, but he kept it on these thick chains. Lent one to my dad who wrapped it around the handles of the shed. After he put me in it. Threw myself against those doors, but it didn’t do shit. That was the most scared I’ve ever been in my life.” Eliot closed his eyes, trying not to think too hard about those 3 days. 

“I’m sorry that happened, Eliot.” The two men had moved closer to each other, until they were almost holding each other’s hands to each other’s chests. “Why the hell would your fathers be so mad at  _ you _ ?” 

Eliot realized that of course Hardison wouldn’t know why his father was so mad he was kissing a girl, and even more so why her father would be too. He didn’t know what his name used to be, what he used to look like. To be euphemistic, they had been making out in the women’s bathroom. “That doesn’t matter. Ever since then I, you know, I knew I had control. Nobody else. I knew I could do something. Even if it would get me killed, it would be my choice. No one could ever put me in a position like that again. But then today, when we found out what happened with you. I felt that fear again. I couldn’t do anything about you, I woulda done anything to be in your place. I’ve never let someone hold that kinda power over me. But— Hardison. I would sleep on your floor every night— I mean, I’m just sayin’ I, uh.” Eliot couldn’t look Hardison in the eye as he spoke. “I’d sleep on your floor every night if I could keep you safe. I can’t let you put yourself in danger like that again. Alec—” Eliot grimaced as he felt a moment of courage fill up his chest, took a deep breath, and pressed his lips against the other man’s. 

For an agonizing second, Hardison’s lips tensed, and Eliot was readying himself to get kicked out of bed. He wasn’t sure if Hardison was gay or bi or whatever, and even if he was this was such an inappropriate moment to start anything. But then Hardison’s lips cracked open and his hand traveled to the small of Eliot’s back. Nothing like a near death experience to set the mood. Now Eliot was in his element. Sort of. He’d never been kissed by a guy so… hungrily. Or passionately. Never someone he loved. The last time he had kissed a guy was when he was working for Moreau, and that was nothing like this. But he barely remembered that right now, as he tasted Hardison’s lips. The only reason it came into his thoughts was that the lights were on. He never fucked with the lights on. There were a lot of reasons: he wasn’t his scarred body’s biggest fan, he liked the sensual nature of exploring his partner’s body in the dark, and they could usually tell that there was something off about his penis. With the money he had stolen from Moreau, he was able to pay for a top of the line procedure, but with enough time spent close to that area, you could start to see the scars. At least the ones on his chest were old enough to have faded. 

Hardison biting his lower lip and moving to straddle him snapped him away from his thoughts. Eliot ground his hips against him, still liplocked and hooked his fingers under the hem of Hardison’s shirt, breaking away from him to pull it off. He grabbed Hardison’s torso and slammed his back roughly into the mattress. Eliot licked Hardison’s nipple, and with his hands grabbed at his pants and pulled them off. He liked undressing his partners, it felt like unwrapping a gift, and Hardison was a beautiful gift. 

Hardison whined and wrapped his fingers in Eliot’s hair, pulling him into his chest. Eliot smiled and scraped his teeth on his nipple, making Hardison let out a breathy grunt. He kissed his way down the man’s torso wordlessly, then pulled his thighs up over his shoulders, kissing and sucking the soft of his inner thighs for what felt like hours to Hardison.

“Come on, man,” Hardison whispered. “Please.”

“What?” Eliot played dumb, punctuating his words with kisses. “Sorry, what’s that?” 

“Eliot, come on. Eliot.” The way Hardison said his name made Eliot’s heart skip a beat. He rubbed his nose against his balls, licking the base of his shaft, keeping his large arms wrapped around Hardison’s thighs and pulling him closer. He loved the way Hardison was pulling his hair and the hitches he could hear in his breath, wanted to make him do it more. So without warning, he took Hardison’s sizable cock to the base, letting it hit the back of his throat and pressing his nose against the pubic hair of his pelvis. Hardison let out a strangled cry and grabbed Eliot’s hair. 

He pulled back, looking up at Hardison’s face. His head was thrown back, eyes closed, arm thrown over his forehead. He looked perfect. “Shh. You don’t want Parker hearing, do ya?” The fact that Parker was just outside made Eliot’s dick twitch. The idea that she could come in at any moment and catch him sucking off her will-they-won’t-they boyfriend, that she could join in too— it made him guilty to even think about, but even more guilty that he liked it so much. But he could feel that Hardison seemed to like the idea too. After a few minutes of sucking his cock, Eliot felt Hardison’s grip relax. 

“Um, could I, uh. Do something for you? I’m feeling like a real pillow princess.” He was awkward, the kind of awkwardness you get when you’re getting a blowjob from your best friend. Eliot popped off of his dick and let his legs fall down to the bed. Eliot sat up, taking in Hardison’s naked form one more time. He wasn’t kidding himself, he was sure this would be the only time either of them would let their guard down enough to let something like this happen, he wanted to relish it. That was at least one perk of having the lights on. “Eliot?”

“Um, yeah. You can do something for me. Tell me where you keep your condoms,” he growled out the question like it was a command. Hardison was taken back by the forcefulness of the statement, and was too breathless to say anything. He pointed at the nightstand. Eliot reached over him to rummage in the drawer, pulling out a condom and lube. Hardison had started rubbing himself in the absence of Eliot’s pressure, and Eliot swatted his hands away. “Hey. Tonight is about you. Just lie back and let me take care of you.” Hardison looked up in surprise at the loving tone that had crept its way into Eliot’s voice. Eliot pretended not to notice. He rolled Hardison onto his stomach and raised his hips. He took his shirt off, then slipped his own pants off. Quickly, he pumped his dick to erection, wrapping his hand around his scrotum. He slipped the condom on, rubbed the lube onto his hands, and with his thumb ran circles around Hardison’s asshole before pressing in. With his free hand he slowly ran his hand up and down Hardison’s cock. He let out a loud groan and pushed his hips into Eliot’s hands. Going ever so slowly, Eliot pumped his thumb in and out in time with his lazy grasp on his cock. 

“More?” Eliot asked. 

Hardison nodded his head and grabbed the sheets below him. “Yes. Yeah. Yes.” Eliot took his thumb out and pressed his index and middle fingers into him, stretching him open. He started moving the hand on his cock faster. 

“So, uh, you ever done this before?” Eliot asked awkwardly. 

Hardison moaned and groaned under him. “Yeah,” he was able to pant out. “Age of the Geek, baby! Not just straight white boys.” Eliot rolled his eyes and took his fingers out before pushing back in with three. Hardison yelled out as Eliot hit his prostate. “Slow down, slow down!” Precum leaked out of his cock and Eliot could feel him clench on his fingers. He let go of his cock and pulled out of his ass. He poured out more lube, this time onto his own dick. 

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” Eliot raised Hardison’s hips right in front of him, and slowly pushed in. Starting with just a few inches, Eliot let Hardison adjust to him. Hardison grabbed the sheets and bit the pillow to keep from being too loud. After a few thrusts, Eliot pushed himself into him completely, and reached around to keep jerking him off. He leaned forward, kissing the back and side of Hardison’s neck, lightly biting the crook of it, where he had pressed his face into earlier today, so happy to see his best friend alive. As he pounded into the man underneath him, both grunting with each thrust, he sucked and bit that spot. 

“Hey, I’m going to—”

“Yeah, me too.” As Eliot hit Hardison’s prostate, and rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock, he cried out Eliot’s name and came over his hand, spraying out onto the sheets and his stomach. Eliot let his inhibitions go as he felt Hardison finish. He slammed his hips into the back of his ass faster and faster, gripping it so hard with his fingers he was sure he would leave bruises tomorrow. “Dammit, Alec.” He bit down hard on Hardison’s neck, pulling out a cute moan, and finally, he came too. Eliot collapsed onto his friend’s back, and let out a loud sigh of satisfaction. But with post-nut clarity came post-nut embarrassment. Eliot pulled out slowly, and threw the condom out in the trash can by Hardison’s bed, hiding the lack of anything in it. 

“Sorry.”

“What do you mean, sorry?” 

“Oh, uh, I feel like I got a little carried away.” Eliot scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “That whole thing could definitely be called getting carried away. Um, do you feel better?”

“Yeah, that felt really good.”

“Oh, good, good.” Eliot nodded without looking at him. “I just felt like maybe you needed something life affirming.”

Hardison smirked. “That sure was ‘life affirming.’” Hardison’s eyes flicked to the bathroom door. “I’m gonna, uh, shower.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem I’ll go after you.” Eliot settled back in bed, hands covering his penis. Hardison searched his face, awkwardly. “What? What do you want?”

“We can save water.”

“... Go together?”

“Yeah we could shower together. Just to save water.”

“Yeah, to save water. That makes sense.” Eliot hopped off of the bed, trying to look neither eager nor bored. Hardison got into the shower, warming the water up. He hadn’t had sex like that in a long time. He hadn’t had sex where someone called him by his first name, his  _ real _ first name, even longer. His hand trailed to his neck. He could feel from the tenderness of the skin that hickeys would be there by tomorrow and groaned. Good thing he already wore scarves consistently. 

“Sorry.” Eliot sheepishly looked at his handiwork. There were hickeys and bite marks on his neck and chest, not small ones either. Hardison didn’t say anything to that. They showered in silence, letting what they had done sink in, both trying to ignore the elephant of Parker in the living room. They got dressed again, and Hardison threw the stained blanket into the hamper in the corner of his living room. “Think you can sleep now?” 

Hardison nodded and shut the lights off, then got back into bed, inches away from Eliot. “Thanks.” He pressed his forehead against Eliot’s. “Thanks for making me feel safe tonight.”

It took all of Eliot’s strength not to kiss him goodnight.


	3. Let's Pretend It Never Happened

When Hardison woke up, he instinctively put his hand on the other side of the bed. Empty. His heart sunk. He should have never let his moment of weakness control him like that; was losing his best friend worth the sex? Albeit, it was really good sex, but Eliot was a  _ really  _ good best friend. He probably had gone home and wouldn’t want to talk to him anymore. No more movie nights, no more leaning over Parker on the couch to argue about something stupid. Parker… She was probably woken up by Eliot’s departure and she would have realized what had happened. He hadn’t just ruined his friendship, he had ruined his crush on Parker too. Or at least set it back another hundred years. 

He made his way to the bathroom, pulled the neck of his shirt down. As expected, a smattering of deep brown hickeys sat around his neck. He cleaned himself up, putting on clothes and making sure to include a thick scarf. Hardison didn’t need the reminders of his mistake. As he went to the door leading out to his living room, he heard a sharp laugh and a deep-voiced response. They were still here. His heart, which had been trailing along the ground with his feet was now pounding in his throat. 

“Mornin’, Hardison,” Eliot called out, not looking up from his disgusting looking hangover cure. Hardison knew he only did that when he got  _ really _ trashed. Maybe he wouldn’t remember last night? 

“Morning.” Eliot noticed the scarf. He wasn’t hungover at all, but he wanted to give himself and Hardison the benefit of the doubt that last night had been a mistake that they could both forget. 

“Eliot told me you needed him to sleep on your floor because you were scared.” Parker swung her legs from the barstool she was sitting on. “You know, I was in the living room, I could have protected you too.” She pouted. 

“On the floor? Yeah, he really took one for the team and slept on my floor.” He smiled at Eliot. “Man, you haven’t ever been buried alive by a drug cartel. I’m scared for my life, dog.” Somehow that felt like a lie in the light of day, especially after how he had felt last night. 

“Aww, Hardison. We’ll get ‘em today. Cheer up!” Parker smiled. “Nate’s even calling a meeting for some… Uhhhh… He said a lot of things and I’m gonna be honest I wasn’t paying attention.” 

The three made their way downstairs, where Nate and Sophie were already going over something. Eliot trailed behind Parker, trying to keep a physical distance from Hardison. 

“Hey, why are you acting weird?” Parker whispered to Eliot as Nate droned on about something. 

“Shh. Parker!” Eliot hissed back. “I’m not acting weird.”

“Yes you are. You usually sit next to Hardison when you can, and you argue with him or clap him on the back or touch his arm. You’re not doing that today.” 

Eliot glared at Sophie, who was obliviously taking notes. “You, uh. Been learnin’ from Sophie?”

“Yup. Aren’t I getting better at reading people?”

“Yeah. Real good. Look Parker, I’m just worried about Hardison. Right? He’s in danger and I—”

“Something to share with the class?” Nate looked down his nose at Eliot and Parker. 

Eliot growled and shifted in his seat. “No.” 

“Good, ok, now if we could get back to the con?” 

Soon after, Eliot, Parker, and Sophie were sent to perform their duties, and Hardison and Nate were left in Nate’s living room. Hardison was in a good mood as it looked more and more like the plan was coming together. 

“Please, stop rubbing it in. You’re embarrassing.” Nate shook his head. “What, are you 16?”

Hardison stopped his celebrating. “What, uh, what are you talking about Nate?”

“Come on.” Nate looked at him knowingly, and when he realized Hardison wouldn’t volunteer information rolled his eyes. “Your bedroom? It’s right above mine?” 

Hardison’s eyes widened. “I have no idea what you’re talk— hey!” Nate pulled Hardison’s scarf down with the pencil he was holding, revealing the constellation of hickeys. 

“Wow, Parker is a lot more aggressive than I thought she’d be. Though now that I think about it, it actually makes a lot of sense.” 

Hardison wasn’t sure whether he should freak out or relax. Yeah he’d been caught with his pants down (almost literally), but at least it wasn’t the more surprising truth. Nate was older, set in his ways. If he knew both he and Eliot were bi men… well he’s sure he wouldn’t be homophobic but he’d definitely be weird about it. “I love gay people! My dog is gay!” kinda supportive that nobody wants or needs. Especially because he wasn’t going to pursue Eliot.

“Yeah, man. Parker and I, in the heat of the moment, may have decided to fool around.” Hardison retied his scarf around his neck. “It doesn’t mean anything. We were drunk, we had the adrenaline rush of the day going through us. I still don’t know where I stand.”

Nate rolled his eyes. “Look. I hate talking about this shit. But two people don’t just have sex on a whim. They have sex because they want to have sex with each other, alcohol and adrenaline or not.” He paused to sip his whiskey. “Now, whether there’s romance behind it…”

“Nope,” Hardison answered quickly. “I mean yup, there’s no way of telling. I certainly didn’t really feel it. Don’t talk to her about it. You know how she is.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care to.”

“Don’t tell Sophie either. You know how  _ she _ is.”

“Don’t have loud sex right above my head and we have a deal.” 

Yeah. That wasn’t gonna happen again anytime soon. 

~~~

“Eliot?” 

“Huh?” Eliot and Parker were driving back from a job well done, Eliot’s beanie pulled down over his long hair and Parker fidgeting with something in the passenger seat. 

“You know how I’m… not like Nate and Sophie? Like how it’s hard for me to understand my whole thing?” She gestured at her head and then her body. “And I’m sure that you know, you’ve gone through this a lot and all... What I’m trying to say is, how did you feel about Hardison yesterday?”

Eliot almost slammed on the brakes. “Excuse me?” He had felt a lot of Hardison yesterday. 

“Like, when he was buried and we were all worried about him, I got so scared. More scared than I’d ever been in my life. Why?”

Eliot let his hackles lower. “Because you love him, Parker. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Parker snorted. “Love? What even is that?”

“Baby don’t hurt me,” Eliot whispered under his breath.

“What?”

“Shut up, Hardison was playing that song a lot a couple days ago. It’s an earworm.” Parker nodded and stared at her hands, until Eliot felt he was forced to go on with a sigh. “Parker, there’s all kinds of love. I mean, you don’t love me the same way you love Hardison, right?” He felt a stab of bitterness as he said that, and Parker didn’t respond. “But you’d feel the same fear if it’d been me in that spot, right?” 

“Yeah. Well, less actually but only because you need less air than Hardison, you’d probably have had like, 10 more minutes at least.”

“Ok, but the point is you’d’ve been crying and losing it too, right? Think of it, like, you know, lichens?”

“Lichens?”

Eliot was a little embarrassed, he hated trying to sound booksmart. It was not his niche. “They’re this plant sorta thing that looks like mold or something on trees, and they’re actually the combo of algae and some kinda mushroom workin’ together.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m tryna say that, all of us? We’re a lichen. We all gotta work together to make a whole. And if one of us dies then the whole thing dies. So it doesn’t matter whether you can’t figure out how you feel about Hardison, you need him just like I need the both of you.” He stopped, but added on quickly: “Or Sophie. Or Nate.” 

“Awww, what a beautiful sentiment Eliot!” Sophie’s voice cracked over the earbud Eliot had forgotten he was wearing, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Sophie, what the hell! I’m just comforting my good friend Parker over here—”

“Comfort her any more and Hardison might need to get jealous.” Eliot growled at Sophie’s implication. 

“Jealous of what?” Parker asked innocently. 

“How do you know anything, about lichen anyhow?” Sophie brushed over Parker’s question.

“When you’re in the woods being chased by North Korean paramilitary troops and trying to protect your ass, recognizing plant life can save you. They have a very distinctive shape.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, are you an algae or a mushroom?” Parker pinched his arm as if checking for fungal growths.

“Well, obviously I’m the mushroom.” He looked at her to see if she got the joke. She did not. “Because— well, because, I’m a fun guy.”

“Yeah you are a fun guy!” Parker grinned and punched his elbow. “I don’t see why that makes you the mushroom, though. If I had to pick I think I’d be an algae. I like how they float in water like that.”

Eliot squinted at her. “You’re very strange, you know that?”

“Nothing compared to you calling yourself a fun guy, I get it you’re funny.” 

“It’s because— a mushroom— a fungi—“ Eliot grumbled to himself but didn’t say anything more. Sophie was quiet on the comms, and Parker seemed content with the extended metaphor. 

That night Eliot was alone with Hardison for the first time since the night before. Sophie and Nate had gone upstairs to… argue or fuck, none of them could ever tell which it was. Parker was outside “reverse pickpocketing.” It was a thing where she would switch people’s identical watches or put loose change in their pockets, mostly harmless. Eliot drank a beer, hoping to deflect the awkward silence in the bar, but it didn’t work.

“Hey—” They both started at the same time. 

“Oh, hey man, you go first, you go first.” Eliot gestured at Hardison. 

“I was just gonna say, we don’t have to talk about last night, right? We can just forget it. Like it never happened.”

Eliot felt like he was being punched in the gut. Well, that’s exactly what he was going to say too, but maybe he had thought… he didn’t know what he had thought. “Yeah man, it was a complete fluke.” Eliot punched Hardison’s shoulder. “I was just worried about you. Like a bro. I’m straight as a pipe and I mean, someone needed to take your virginity.”

Hardison glared at him. “Eliot. I have had sex before.”

“Are you sure? In the four years I’ve known you I ain’t ever seen you do nothing but pine after Parker.” Hardison slapped his shoulder right back. 

“I hate you. You know that right. You’re a bitch.”

Eliot sipped his beer. “Yeah. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I should say, I DO actually have the whole fic finished, I'll be publishing one or two chapters every few days until I get it all out there. But don't worry about me leaving you hanging!! Like Eliot and Hardison leave each other hanging :(


	4. Maybe I do Think About You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during/after the Boys' Night Out Job. Warnings for some mild referenced/internalized transphobia.

It had been a couple months. Eliot had tried to let the memory of that night fade into the back of his mind, had used booze and weed to dull the nagging sense of desire that grabbed hold of him every time he saw Hardison. It’s not like he was having some kind of crisis about his sexuality. He was a lesbian, then he was straight, had had sex with men before, he might as well let a man worm his way into his heart. But why did it have to be  _ this _ man? It was even worse whenever the three of them would have a movie night or when Parker and he would watch wrestling together. She had always been a little confused about the concept of “personal space,” especially when she was alone with another person, and loved to stretch herself across him like a needy cat. He used to feel guilty about thinking one of his best friends was hot. Now he felt guilty because he thought  _ both _ his best friends were hot. 

Now he was off with Hardison chasing down some  _ other _ Mexican drug cartel (damn it, why was it always Mexican drug cartels?). It’s not like they hadn’t been alone since that night, but Hardison was droning on and on about his relationship with Parker. Eliot had clearly said the wrong thing and Hardison had gotten mad.

“Look, if I said I thought you weren’t exciting, it would mean that I think about you and Parker. Which I never, ever do,” Eliot had lied. He had thought about him and Parker every day since they met, give or take. And in the past month he had started thinking about them everywhere; on missions, during briefings, in the shower, in bed. 

“... what do you think?” Oh fuck. And now apparently while stroking the leg of an incredibly sexy woman sitting in his lap. 

“What was that baby? Sorry I was a little, ha, distracted.” He gave her a once over with a slight smile, the kind of look that always worked. 

She grinned and swatted his arm. “I was saying, do you wanna get out of here?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Eliot saw Hardison leaving his conversation with Nate. “Yeah, baby, let’s go.” He kissed her gently, and the two stood up. He felt awkward, leaving the room just as Hardison was leaving. He didn’t want Nate thinking he was following his friend out of the bar with this hot piece on his arm, didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. “Hey, um, we’re gonna—”

“Go.” Nate nodded and waved him away. 

Eliot began walking toward the exit, where Sophie, Parker, and Hardison were gathered. He leaned into the woman’s ear to whisper, “Don’t talk to them. They’ll make us stay.” He wasn’t sure whether that was for her or for himself, but he found the answer out quickly. When they were almost clear of the group, Eliot grabbed the back of Hardison’s arm. It was meant to be a friendly “good-bye,” a pat on the back, but he gripped too hard. The grip was the kind that either said “don’t let me go” or “come with me.”

Hardison didn’t notice any intentions, though, he simply threw his arms open. “What, leaving so soon? Sister Lupe?” 

“Please, no need to call me Sister, it feels a little blasphemous.” 

Eliot sighed angrily, as if he hadn’t caused this himself. “Lupe, this is Sophie, Parker.” 

“Hi, nice to meet you.” She flashed white teeth at the two women. 

“Nice to meet you too. Whiskey? I got whiskey. Or vodka? Or maybe some margarita mix.” Parker pulled the bottles one by one out from behind the bar. 

“Sweetie, Lupe and Eliot clearly have somewhere to go.” Sophie made knowing eyes at the two of them. 

Eliot made a face at Lupe, trying to give something off about how overbearing his friends were. “Yeah, sure, we’ve got time for a drink.  _ One _ drink,” he growled. 

A few hours and much more than one drink later, he was more than pleasantly buzzed. Lupe was using his lap as a seat, Parker and Sophie were slouched together whispering and giggling about something, and Hardison was hanging off of his arm. It was a nice feeling of friendship. Community. Whatever. 

“Hey,” Lupe whispered in his ear, the heat from her breath making Eliot’s heart beat. “Your friend’s pretty hot. Let’s take him up with us.” She bit his ear and he felt a jolt go up his spine.

“Uh, darlin’, I’m not sure if—” He looked over at Hardison. “He’s pretty drunk, I don’t know.”

“But if he were sober you wouldn’t mind?” She laughed. “Hey, Hardison, come up to bed with us.”

Hardison straightened up. “Yeah, ok, let’s go.” He slipped his hand into the back of Eliot’s jeans and pulled him up off the barstool. When Eliot looked over to Parker to gauge her response, she and Sophie were gone. He turned back to Lupe, and instead of her long legs being pressed against his, they were Parker’s. Before he could say anything, she was pressing her lips against his, pushing her tongue into his mouth. Hardison was behind him, grinding his hips against his ass and pushing his hair out of the way to kiss his neck, and— 

“Wake up, perv.” Eliot felt a sharp pain in his side and groaned. He blinked his eyes against the bright lights above him. The glass doors of the bar showed a brightening sky, dark blues with the orange of the sun pushing into it. He was lying on the floor, his back and bones aching against the hardwood. Hardison was standing over him, disheveled. He kicked him again. “You’ve gotta  _ not  _ be havin a sex dream on the floor of this bar.”

“Ouch, dude.” Eliot pulled himself up to sitting. “I’m not. I was having a fucking awesome dream about… kicking and punching. The basics. Hitting bad guys, punching Nazis— what the fuck happened last night?” 

Hardison pointed to the empty bottles of alcohol on the bar. “We reached Margaritaville, and then kept hitchhiking.” Eliot groaned and cracked his neck. “You said ‘watch this, Lupe!’ and then showed off how you could open up the back of your throat to shotgun beer cans. I don’t know why you’d think she’d find that hot.” He pointed to an empty 12-pack on the floor. “That was mostly from you trying to teach her how to do it. Then you passed out on the floor. Parker and I thought about calling an ambulance but you seemed fine.”

At the mention of Parker, there were three thumps from the ceiling above them. “Parker sleeping in the ceiling tiles again?” Hardison nodded. “Hey, what about Lupe? Where’d she go?”

Hardison grimaced and squatted down, putting his hand on Eliot’s shoulder. “I’m gonna be real with you chief. She and Sophie went home together.” Eliot groaned again, but was relieved that at least someone gave Lupe a good night. 

“She was so hot, man…” Eliot buried his face in his hands. He wasn’t that upset about it, really, but he had to keep his reputation as a ladies’ man. 

“Who’s Dr. Hobbes?” Parker’s head peered down at them from a ceiling tile that she had shifted to the side. Eliot jolted. That wasn’t a name he had heard in a long time. Not since he last met her, right after leaving Moreau. “You kept talking about her.”

“What was I saying?” Eliot growled.

“Not much, just that you were grateful to her. When you fell asleep the first time you said ‘just do it, Hobbes.’ Do what?” 

Eliot snorted, drawing his legs up to his chest reflexively. “She’s a doctor I knew. Back when I lived in Oklahoma. She helped me get a couple of procedures I needed. Got me some… medication when I was a kid that my dad wouldn’t get me. She’s not important. Haven’t talked to her in years.”

“Medication like what?” Parker asked bluntly. 

“Medication like medication, Parker. Alright?” Eliot didn’t look at her or Hardison. He hated coming out. He was a man. That’s all that mattered to him. Not his chromosomes, not the vials of testosterone in his locked medicine cabinet, not the scars around his junk and his nipples. But enough people had made it clear that he wasn’t a real man that maybe a little bit of it had stuck in his brain. They always looked at him differently after they found out. Eliot deflected the conversation. “Look, I ain’t sick anymore, right? Actually that ain’t true either, I’m fucking hungover as shit. Hangover cure for you two?”

“Yes, puh-lease.” Hardison nodded vigorously. 

“Thank you!” Parker chimed, and closed the ceiling tile back up. 

“I’m already bringing raw eggs.” The bell at the door chimed. Nate came in with a carton. “But what the hell are you guys doing in my bar.”

“Nate. We got very, very drunk last night,” Hardison conceded. 

“Yeah, me too. And I wasn’t even here. Eliot, work your magic, please.” Eliot grunted a response and made them all disgusting drinks with a raw egg in them. It tasted like shit, but worked like a charm. “Everyone, rest up, we’ve got a meeting in uhhh,” Nate checked his watch. “Six hours.” There was a chorus of groans and grumbles from the floor and the ceiling.

“Man, we just finished a job last night. Are you seriously meetin’ with someone else  _ today _ ?” Eliot complained. 

“Yes, Eliot. The rich and powerful don’t take breaks on weekends.”

“Yeah, but we do! At least, we want to.”

“Fine, Hardison, I’ll take Sophie to meet with the client. She’s not here with you, so she’s obviously more put together than any of you three.” Hardison and Eliot awkwardly looked at each other. “But in the afternoon we’re going to have a fucking briefing, capisce?” Everyone sounded a reluctant capisce back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. Ok. Lupe Hardison and Eliot CLEARLY had a threesome in boys' night out job. The way she and Eliot leave RIGHT as Hardison leaves? The way Eliot says "don't talk to them" but initiates with Hardison, implying "them" meant Parker and Sophie? John Rogers and Christian Kane I am looking, I am looking so disrespectfully at what you have done. Anyway, that threesome doesn't make a lot of narrative sense for how I was setting this fic up so I guess it's not "canon compliant" or whatever. Await my next chapter in a couple days <3


	5. The Case Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters depicted in this are ficticious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, such as JKR, is purely coincidental.

Nate and Sophie were waiting at a table in the bar for their client. 

“I can’t believe you slept with Sister Lupe,” Nate grumbled.

“Whaaaaat?” Sophie drew out the word. “She’s not a real nun.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“We were on a break!” Sophie smirked.

Nate opened his mouth to respond but noticed the client walking in. “This is not over Sophie.” 

“Are you Nate Ford?” A woman in a yellow turtleneck and jeans stood in front of their table. “Emely. Emely Rodriguez. I contacted you the other day?” 

“Yes, Ms. Rodriguez, please sit.” She folded herself into the seat in front of him. She was looking haggard and upset, like she hadn’t been sleeping well. “This is my associate, Sophie Devereaux.”

Sophie extended a hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The same. Look, someone told me that you help people who can’t get help. That’s why I’m here.”

“That’s what we do,” Nate said. “Please, tell us what your case is.”

“I used to work at a publishing company called Oceanside House. Two years ago, my co-worker came up to me and told me she had found my social media accounts. My secret ones. You see, I’m a trans woman, but I had been working at the company so long I wasn’t out yet. I barely knew myself. I was just trying out a new identity online, and this woman, Anne Lynn, started telling me if I didn’t pay her then she’d tell my boss, my family, everyone. I was too scared to say no. I had just gotten out of college, I needed the job and wasn’t sure how my parents would react.” Her voice was strained, and she looked to the side out the window, as if remembering. 

Sophie reached out a hand, patting hers. “I’m sorry. She was blackmailing you?” 

Emely nodded. “For months. Until her book came out.  _ ‘The Monster in the Mirror _ .’ It was this horrible thing, half pseudo-scientific bullshit, half fictional accounts from characters she made up. It told the story of parents who found out their kids were trans, and how they ‘fixed’ them. The book’s not openly transphobic enough to set off people’s alarms, it has just enough ‘science’ and ‘psychology’ in it that it really makes out of touch cis parents think they’re doing the right thing. Turns out she found my blog because she was doing research. I had no idea Oceanside was going to publish it until it was already printed. I confronted her about it, and she said it was already out so what harm could it do.” Emely blinked her eyes and put her face in her hands to compose herself. “The next day my boss called me into his office and fired me for ‘inappropriate conduct.’ I know she outed me to him, and there were no laws in place in the state I was in— Ohio— to protect myself. He said it would be a ‘bad look’ for the company to publish the book  _ and _ have me on staff. I mean, it’s not like I’d want to keep working there anyway. But they blacklisted me to so many other companies, I can’t find work. And this piece of shit book— well, I came out to my parents. They told me that they had read the book Oceanside had just published, and they knew exactly what to do. If I didn’t go to conversion therapy and stop transitioning, I wasn’t welcome in their home. That was a year ago.”

“Why now?” Nate asked. 

“Because, this fucking bitch is going on a book signing on a two week singles cruise, and is about to get a movie deal.” Emely dropped a brochure on the table. On the left half, it showed a huge cruise boat. On the right, it showed a smiling blonde woman in pearls and a bland pantsuit. “I want the money that bitch blackmailed from me. I’m gonna use it to get my little brother out of our parents’ house. He cut his hair short by himself a few weeks ago and they sent him to one of those camps Lynn advertises for. He’s almost 18, has a scholarship to a local college, and I want to be able to support him through it so he doesn’t have to rely on our family.” She sat back with her arms crossed. “And more importantly, I want Anne Lynn discredited, derided, and I don’t want any company to be able to touch her with a ten foot pole. The way that they should be acting around her  _ now _ .” The client’s face transitioned from anger to nerves as she didn’t get a response. “So… will you take my case?”

Before Nate could say anything, Sophie leaned forward. “Of course we will.”

She gave a huge smile. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t have a lot of money, I don’t think I can pay you—”

“Don’t worry.” Sophie gave a sly smile. “We get our income from… Alternate sources.” 

~~~~

After the client had left, Nate glared at Sophie who didn’t seem to notice. “Seriously? What the hell are we going to do for her?” 

“Oh, come on Nate. We do this job to help people who can’t help themselves. Isn’t this one of the most noble cases we could take?”

“I don’t know, Soph. This seems kinda flimsy. If the author’s already openly a shithead, how the hell are we going to destroy her reputation?”

“The Indiana Turnabout.” Sophie smiled softly. 

“No way. I’m never handling that many geese again.” 

“Ok. The Blue Benjamin?” 

“No… She’s not bribing anyone.” 

“But she is blackmailing. Or, was. I assume still is. How about putting that out into the open?”

Nate bobbed his head in thought. “Maybe.”

Sophie shot him an exasperated look. “Look, it’s your job as the mastermind. I’m just a pretty face and a silver tongue.” She shook her hair out of her face and walked ahead to Nate’s apartment, where Eliot, Hardison, and Parker were talking. 

“I told you, Star Wars, Star Trek, it’s all the same to me.”

“Eliot, just pick one or Hardison is going to make us watch the Clone Wars again,” Parker pleaded. 

“If you call Star Wars and Star Trek the same thing one more time…” Hardison stopped when Nate and Sophie walked into the room. The three of them sat back in their seats and quieted down. “This isn’t over.”

“You said that last time.”

“You should pick Star Trek, cuz’ it’s got Spock in it,” Parker said authoritatively. 

“Is Spock the fruity elf?” Eliot looked mock innocently at Hardison who looked real distraught at him. 

“Are you guys done yet?” Nate knocked on the table. 

“Please.” Eliot waved his hand at the screen.

Sophie began to debrief them, and when she got to the part about Anne Lynn being a transphobic author, she noticed Eliot shift slightly in his seat. It was barely perceptible, but she wasn’t the grifter for nothing. “Eliot… are you ok?”

Eliot turned red. “Me? Yeah I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You don’t have a problem with her, do you?”

Everyone was looking at him, and he felt hot under the collar. “Of course I have a problem with her dammit.” 

“With Emely?” Sophie asked and Hardison and Parker exploded into argument over Eliot.

“Alr- Oka- Cal-” He slammed his hands on the table. “Everyone calm the hell down. I have a problem with  _ Lynn _ .” Everyone grew silent and looked at him again. “Wh- Just because I’m a good ol’ southern boy? Of course I love trans women.” He directed his comments to Sophie. “Trans women have done more for this country than a lot of people I served with and if I had been there with you I’d’ve told the client what I’m gonna tell you: I want to snap Lynn like a twig. Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Riviera  _ kickstarted _ the goddamn gay rights movement in America and I’m sick of—”

“Who are Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Riviera?” Nate asked.

“Two trans women. Threw the first brick at Stonewall. Colloquially. Possibly literally.” He crossed his arms and sat back.

“Okay, looks like we’ve got a little activist on our hands,” Sophie began.

“Man you’re getting it all wrong,” Elliot lied, trying to back away from his automatic and intense defense of the trans community and their history. “I dated this pride parade organizer once. She was hot as hell. And let me tell you. I saw  _ alllll  _ of her and she was woman from her head to her toes.” He winked at Sophie, who rolled her eyes. He wasn’t lying. It had been a steamy week long romp when he was in San Francisco. They had made out on a float. “She uh, taught me some history.” He shrugged. Didn’t need people thinking he was soft or anything.

“Ok, while y’all have been falsely accusing Eliot of transphobia, I’ve been looking up this singles cruise Lynn is gonna be on and the movie company she’s getting a deal with.” Hardison ignored the fact that he was one of the accusers and pulled up a schematic of the boat along with a photo of a man holding a puppy. “This guy is the CEO. What he says goes. If we can convince him that Lynn isn’t worth doing a deal with, she loses that. Looks like he’s a big animal rights activist.”

Eliot snorted and grumbled under his breath, “Figures he’s pickin’ up such a shitty movie deal. Animals are cuter than humans I guess.”

Hardison continued. “Doesn’t seem like there are a lot of skeletons in her closet that would get her in trouble with the guy signing off on a movie about bigotry. A couple of parking violations. Her book is super popular, she became a millionaire basically overnight. She was on Oprah talking about ‘feminism.’”

“We could catch her blackmailing,” Parker offered.

“Or get someone to get close to her and find out some more details about her life,” Sophie countered.

“Or get her to kick a dog on camera.” Everyone looked at Nate for that one. “What? I’m spitballing!” 

“We could get her to donate to an organization that’s a dog fighting ring.” Hardison started tapping away on his laptop. “Hey, then we can take her  _ and _ a dog fighting ring down.” 

Nate nodded slowly. “Okay guys, I think I have a plan. Hardison, any ideas for getting us onto the ship?”

“Soooo, I can get us 5 tickets no problem. But since Lynn is doing readings and giving ‘self-help’ talks, she’s technically a performer. It might be good to get at least one of us in that classification so we can get closer to her.” His gaze slid to Eliot. 

“What?” 

“You’re probably our best bet. Good ol’ southern boy like you said. She’ll trust you.” 

Eliot was suddenly realizing the problem with the closet. “What about Parker? She’s cute and white. Bigots love that.”

“Aww you think I’m cute?” Parker winked at him. Eliot snorted, shot a quick glance at Hardison, and winked back. 

“Ok, glossing over that—” Hardison grimaced “ — I think it would be best if you both went in. Two pronged approach.” 

“And we can work the above-deck angle,” Sophie offered. “Nate and I can try to befriend her.” 

Hardison nodded.

“Okay, slow your horses. What are Parker and I going to ‘perform’ as? You can’t just say shit like that. The only real performing skill I have is cooking. I guess I could be like a hibachi chef or something. Wait, do they have something like that? With like, a lot of fire? That would be pretty cool.”

“No, nothing like that.” Hardison scanned the roster. “Oh, this is perfect. There’s a ‘Wild West performance’ that’s looking for dancers.”

“I can dance!” Parker piped up. “It’s just like dodging Glenn-Reider motion detector systems when you’re trying to break into a vault.”

“Eliot can you dance?”

Eliot tried to give off his best gruff and angry soldier look. But that didn’t mean he had forgotten the dance lessons he had been forced to take when he was a little kid. “Yeah, I can dance.”

“Perfect! And you’re basically a cowboy already.” Hardison smirked.

“If this works out, I get on stage, and you film me, I swear to god I will break every camera you own.  _ And  _ slash Lucille’s tires.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Hardison looked fake offended. 

“Well, with that settled.” Nate clapped his hands together. “Let’s go steal a movie deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! If you did, follow my leverage tumblr blog @trans-eliot. Also, if you think I'm missing a tag, please let me know!


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